


put my finger on your tongue ('cause you love the taste)

by pleasekalemenow



Series: Lyf Rights? Discuss. [3]
Category: The Bifrost Incident - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Coming Untouched, Creampie, Denial of Feelings, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Glory Hole, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, Makeup Sex, Mirror Sex, Nonbinary Lyf Rights, Oral Sex, Other, Pegging, Reunion, Rough Oral Sex, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Attempts, TBI Spoilers, This Was Supposed To Be A One Shot, Unprotected Sex, Voyeurism, but - Freeform, but the character is. Immortal, but you are legally obligated to give me constructive criticism, death in a horny way, djjdjdjs, eventually, if you read this and you are a mechanism that's fine, lmk if y'all need any more tags, no one else give me concrit though lmao, this is just. deeply horny, transmasc nonbinary lyf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23096089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasekalemenow/pseuds/pleasekalemenow
Summary: Lyf recognizes him the second he enters their stall, of course. Von Raum. He’s broken out, they suppose, and he’s standing in front of them looking flushed and a bit nervous. His hair is slicked back and his clothes are–well, they look like he probably stole them from a department store. There’s no mistaking him, though. Toe to tip, that’s a Marius. Lyfrassir has spent enough time being forced to interact with the asshole to recognize him anywhere....The asshole who, incidentally, Lyf just sucked the fingers of through a glory hall in the toilet of a shitty dive bar. Lyf just stares for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, and Marius looks just as uncertain of what he should be doing. Maybe it’s just that–his trepidation–or maybe they want to teach him a lesson, or maybe it’s just that Lyf is horny, or maybe it’s something something sunk cost fallacy. Whatever their motives, in that moment they decide that the dark room is plausible deniability enough and they are going to fuck Marius von Raum.--Or, a series of times Marius and Lyf hooked up before and after Yggdrasil was consumed by squamous things from between realities.
Relationships: Lyfrassir Edda/Marius von Raum, Lyfrassir Edda/Raphaella la Cognizi, Mechs Polycule, Prison Mechs, Raphaella la Cognizi/Marius von Raum
Series: Lyf Rights? Discuss. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652932
Comments: 65
Kudos: 162
Collections: The Mechanisms After Dark





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> y'all know what tf the title's from but it's "Sweater Weather" by The Neighbourhood

Lyf has had their lips more or less plastered to the grimy stall of this shitty dive bar toilet for the better part of three hours at this point. Well, more specifically, they’ve been operating the glory hole in the stall for that time.

The current user isn’t exactly the genteel sort, guessing from the way they grunt wordlessly as they fuck Lyfrassir’s throat with such ferocity they wonder absently if they might be bleeding. Whoever they are, they’ve been going at it for longer than anyone else who came before them, and Lyf is, quite frankly, getting bored. They decide to put their heart into it a bit more, sucking relentlessly even when they pull away for each new thrust, and their tongue works against the bottom of the cock in their mouth even as they’re used like a fleshlight.

Finally–and without warning, Lyf notes distastefully–the person using their mouth comes down their throat. They don’t even taste it; they can just tell from the way the hips stutter and the way they begin choking around the cum sliding down the back of their throat. They pop off the dick with no further pomp, and the dick-haver pulls out of the hole and leaves without a word.

“Rude.” It’s been a while since Lyfrassir felt this _used_ , even doing this. They squirm a little at the thought, but they told themself they wouldn’t touch themself until they were at home. Sure, they might be collecting wanking material from this, but for some reason getting off right here in the stall feels like a different level of pathetic.

They lose track of time kneeling on the floor, waiting for another cock to slide into their personal space, demanding attention. They’d halfway hoped a line might have formed while they were with the last guy, but that certainly doesn’t seem to be the case. They can feel their knees going numb, and they can only manage the thought, _Good_. Licking their lips, they find them sadly lacking any residual taste from any of the people they’ve sucked off tonight. Appropriate, they suppose, for the ephemeral nature of such rendezvous, but that doesn’t make them feel any less hollow. The restroom is dark, and it’s all they can do to stay conscious.

It’s difficult to say how much time has passed when they finally hear the stall next to theirs open and close. Long enough for them to loosely float away from themself, certainly, but that doesn’t last long when they hear from the other side:

“What the hell?”

The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but Lyf can’t place it. They decide to try for playfully flirtatious with their response. “What’s wrong? Never seen a glory hole before?”

There’s silence from the other side for a moment, and they fear they said the wrong thing. Then two fingers are being put into the hole, and Lyfrassir sucks on them earnestly, earning a whimper from whoever is on the other side. Self-satisfied, they stroke the digits lightly with their tongue before taking them as deep as they can with the hand still on the other side.

“How long have you been in here?” The stranger’s voice is hoarse.

They pop off of the fingers in their mouth just long enough to say in a sing-songy tone, “Few hours.” They smirk when they hear a groan.

“And has anyone offered to take care of you in that time?”

They can’t stop themself from laughing at that. “That’s not usually how this sort of thing works.”

“It could be,” the increasingly-familiar voice insists, “if you want. I’ve been told my tongue is good for one thing and one thing only, but it’s _fantastic_ in that regard.”

They couldn’t say why the offer stops them in their tracks, but, well. “And how do I know you don’t just want to get in here so you can fuck me instead of getting head?”

The other person laughs, and they should recognize that laugh, they’re certain. “You don’t even have to touch me if you don’t want to. Although you probably will.”

Lyfrassir Edda is an idiot. They’re a huge fucking idiot and they shouldn’t even be considering this. 

They unlock their stall. 

“Those are some pretty big words. I hope you have the dick to match.”

Lyf recognizes him the second he enters their stall, of course. Von Raum. He’s broken out, they suppose, and he’s standing in front of them looking flushed and a bit nervous. His hair is slicked back and his clothes are–well, they look like he probably stole them from a department store. There’s no mistaking him, though. Toe to tip, that’s a Marius. Lyfrassir– _Inspector_ Lyfrassir has spent enough time being forced to interact with the asshole to recognize him anywhere. 

...The asshole who, incidentally, Lyf just sucked the fingers of. Lyf just stares for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, and Marius looks just as uncertain of what he should be doing. Maybe it’s just that–his trepidation–or maybe they want to teach him a lesson, or maybe it’s just that Lyf is horny, or maybe it’s something something sunk cost fallacy. Whatever their motives, in that moment they decide that the dark room is plausible deniability enough and they are going to fuck Marius von Raum.

“What should I call you?” They look him dead in the eyes as they ask this. Sure, their pause almost certainly gave them away, and they can tell from the intensity of Marius’s gaze that he knows they know, but as long as neither of them say anything…well, plausible deniability might be stretched a bit thin, but–

“Call me Byron.” He’s already crossing the short space between them, and the air is crackling with electric heat. “What should I call you?”

Lyf is already looking at his lips, his stupid, always-moving lips. “I honestly don’t care.”

Von Raum, mercifully, elects not to call them anything at all, closing the distance between them and capturing their lips with his own, the heat searing them as they _moan._ It’s fine, though, because _Byron_ is moaning too, and his hand is already loosely gripping their throat as he wastes no time deepening the kiss. 

“Fuck,” they mutter as his lips trail down their jaw, their neck, their collarbone, and they’re not going to be able to cover the marks he’s leaving with his teeth and tongue tomorrow no matter how much concealer they use. “ _Fuck.”_

“I’d like to,” Byron whispers against sensitive skin. They shudder. “May I?”

Their breath comes in short gasps, and so do their words. “You said–you said you were going to–”

“Eat you out?” He drags his teeth over their collarbone and they barely bite back a whimper. “That counts as fucking last I checked.”

“ _Please.”_ They’re going to regret being this needy tomorrow, or possibly later tonight, but for now Byron doesn’t tease them, just–oh, fucking _Hel._

“Put me _down,_ v–Byron.”

The man in question, who had been lifting them with startling ease to be rested high against the wall with their legs wrapped around his head, sets them down a bit sheepishly. “Too much?”

“We’re not there yet,” they say with an uneasy and deeply aroused chuckle. “I’m still wearing my trousers, for a start.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll have to remedy that immediately.” Byron’s face is distressingly mischevous, and he does not, in fact, remedy that immediately, instead opting to tear their shirt off and kiss along the scars on their chest, kiss their ribs, their hipbones, their abdomen–

“ _Byron_ ,” they manage through gritted death. “ _Do_ get on with it.” They aren’t even sitting down, aren’t even nude, but they’re so _bloody_ horny that their teeth are chattering.

Byron bites them as some sort of warning, and _shit_ if that doesn’t feel electrifying. “ _Patience_ , Inspector.”

Lyf hisses in response, swatting at his head, but he just grins mischievously.

“What’s wrong? You said you didn’t care what I called you.”

There isn’t really a good way for them to respond to that while retaining plausible deniability, and there _certainly_ isn’t a good way for them to respond when he’s slipped a hand into his trousers and is ghosting a finger just above where they want it. They tremble against him, biting their lip so hard it bleeds. They spit, “You _know_ what’s wrong, _Byron._ ”

The smile doesn’t cease. Nor do the maddening circles that they wish would go just a bit lower, just, _lower–_

“What would you rather I call you?” Finally, _finally_ , he brushes lightly over their dick, and they can’t hold back a sob as they nearly double over. “Handsome?” His free hand--the mechanical one--is unbuttoning their trousers, now. “Baby?” He begins tugging them down. “Sweetheart?” It’s all Lyf can do to lean against the wall of the stall as their underwear joins their trousers on the floor. “Slut?” They bring a hand up to cover their mouth as that stupid wonderful tongue flicks over his dick once. Mar--Byron grabs it immediately and pins it against the wall, mechanical strength really eliminating any plausible deniability if they’re not kidding themself. “Lyfrassir? What would do it for you, honey?”

“ _Marius, fucking Hel_ –” Their hands have a vice grip on his hair, although they’re not certain when that happened. Marius turns his head to nip at their thigh, making them cry out pathetically.

“Not sure who that is, gorgeous. I said you could call me Byron. Are you going to be good?”

They’re proper fucking overwhelmed at this point, but they manage to manage an _uh-huh_ along with their frantic nodding, which they choose to count as a win. Those are the last coherent words they manage, though, as Marius is true to his words: his tongue is godsdamn magic, and soon they’re shaking against the wall, tears streaming down their face, as they are held up by his hand gripping their hip, his grip ironclad (ha). 

“M...Byron, I’m…” They tighten their grip on his hair to a cruel extreme, but if his wanton moan is any indication, he doesn’t mind one bit. “ _Fuck_. I’m close.”

Mercifully, he doesn’t try to respond for once, merely redoubling his efforts and humming continuously against them as his tongue flickers over their dick like a flame, heat coiling low in their gut and spreading through their limbs as they shake apart, their legs doing nothing to support them and Marius doing everything, _everything_ , slowing his pace a bit but not stopping as Lyf tries to pick the shattered pieces of themself from where they seem to be floating around this shitty restroom and put themself back together. Marius looks up at them with something in his eyes that they genuinely can’t read in the dim lighting, although they strangely find that they wish they could. He doesn’t stop his ministrations until Lyf weakly pushes his head away, and then he just nuzzles at their thighs, kissing them sweetly. Distantly, they wonder where this person came from and what happened to the brash asshole they’ve come to expect nothing but harassment from.

“Enjoying the view?” Marius asks against their thigh, his voice honey-sweet and teasing. The breath so close to where they are still so sensitive makes them shudder. “You’ve been staring silently for a good while now.” Another kiss, closed-mouthed, against their hipbone. Something burning catches in Lyf’s throat. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” They clear their throat, along with whatever emotions may or may not exist there. “Um. Sorry, I can, um, I can suck you off, if you just want to sit, or stand, or whatever, just give me a minute.”

Marius makes an awkward face, which he suavely covers with an equally awkward smile. “You don’t have to, I’m, uh, I’m good.”

Lyf frowns. “I know I don’t _have_ to, but I want to. I obviously enjoy it.” They gesture at the glory hole. Marius looks away, face flushed. “And after _that_ , it would be rude not to offer.”

“No, really, I’m, um, I’m good.” He looks them in the eyes with seeming difficulty.

“Are you worried about what I said earlier? I don’t--listen, if you want to fuck me, that’s honestly fine, just give me a minute to collect myself and let me get a condom--”

“I already came, Lyf. It’s fine.” His words come in a humiliated rush. Lyf turns scarlet, looking him up and down. Surely enough, there’s a wet spot on the front of his trousers. Which are still fully buttoned. And both hands were...on Lyf. The whole time.

“Oh, gods, von Raum.” They feel something between secondhand mortification and hopeless arousal. “What, were you rutting against your jeans like a teenager?”

Marius’s face goes even deeper red, but his expression seems to be a similarly mixed one to their own. “Unfair of you to act like that’s an absurd notion considering that I just spent several minutes listening to and watching you lose your fucking mind. On my tongue, by the way.”

Lyf still hasn’t released their grip on his hair, and they use that to their advantage as they yank on it. They’re not sure what they want to say in response, but ultimately it doesn’t matter because at the helpless groan Marius makes they can’t stop themself from snogging him senseless. It’s all they can do not to push him to the ground and ride his half-hard dick here and now, but their orgasm has lent them just enough common fucking sense to Not Do That. They allow themself a few indulgent minutes of kissing (biting, sucking, licking) von Raum before they pull away.

“This shouldn’t have happened, of course,” they say, standing. “It was inappropriate. And, of course, if I’d realized it was you sooner, I would never have done it.”

Marius looks a bit wounded at that, so they shake their head almost imperceptibly as they fix their clothes and the corners of his lips twitch up in something like dawning understanding. “Well, for what it’s worth, I regret absolutely nothing, because I am incorrigible if nothing else.”

Lyfrassir can’t hold back a snort at that. “That’s for damn sure.” They’re still buttoning their shirt, which they are happy to use as an excuse for why Marius is able to catch them off-guard with the earnest kiss he presses to their lips. They shake their head in completely-definitely-sincere disapproval. “ _Incorrigible_ , von Raum.”

Marius grins, but it quickly sours, just slightly. “This never happened, I assume?”

“Naturally. It would hardly be appropriate.” They rub their fingers together nervously, nothing on hand to stim with. “I’d be fired, naturally, which would be bad for me, and then I wouldn’t be around for you to harass.”

“Can’t have that, _Inspector._ ”

They roll their eyes. “Never happened, von Raum.”

“Of course.”

“I expect to see you in your cell come morning?”

“What’s that? You’ll make me come in the morning?”

“Good _night_ , von Raum.”

They’re halfway out of the restroom when Marius says, “Lyfrassir?”

They suspect they know what he wants. They turn around anyway. His gaze is so desperately fond they wish the lights were off altogether. His once-slicked back hair is messy and fucked-out, and even the wet spot on the front of his pants somehow seems sexy right now. They try to force their voice to remain steady as they respond, although in their heart they’ve already run back into his arms for reasons they don’t care to examine. “Von Raum?”

He struggles with the words for a moment, mouth opening and closing, but they can’t help him out with this one. “As long as this didn’t happen anyway...do you want this to continue to not happen for a bit longer?”

Looking back, they’ll try to convince themself that they hesitated. That they said something suave, or cavalier, or that they walked away the way they knew they should.

None of that is true, of course, and what they actually do is closer to a sprint across the room into his arms, where they kiss him desperately as he steps back into their stall, closing the shitty door behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius finds himself inside Lyf’s flat. Deaths both little and large as well of feelings of the same variety ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throwback to when this was gonna be a one-off lmao  
> God has punished me for my hubris and my work is never finished

Marius has made a lot of mistakes in his life, but he tries to cut himself a _little_ slack about it, since, according to most people he talks to, he’s immortal, so he’s had plenty of time to establish himself as a fuckup. He’s been alive for some slutty, slutty millenia, and he’s used a single brain cell maybe a dozen times over all that time. This latest thing he’s done, though, feels like it might be breaking some sort of new ground in terms of pure, unadulterated idiocy.

After the last time he broke out of prison--when he happened upon Lyfrassir, made them come apart against the wall, kissed them until they were both gasping, made them scream all of his names--after _that_ , he’s hardly thought of anything else. Ivy and Raphaella mocked him for it, naturally, but they hadn’t tasted the Inspector, hadn’t felt them whimper against his skin. The sensations haunted his dreams, both waking and asleep.

Of course, his original intention in breaking out then hadn’t been to hook up with a cop (again, he was an idiot, and was resigned to his lot) but to _get the fuck out of there_ to at least grab a drink. So, a few weeks later, he does just that. His decision-making even starts out fairly decently. He very pointedly does _not_ revisit the same dive bar, because worst-case scenario Lyfrassir wouldn’t be there and he’d be getting _sad_ -drunk, and best case scenario Lyfrassir _would_ be there and they certainly wouldn’t fuck him again anyway so that was a worst-case scenario too, really. So. Marius doesn’t go there to drink.

The details are blurry about where he _does_ go to drink, because wherever it is, he drinks a _lot_ , but when he comes to he’s somewhere he doesn’t recognize, his head is killing him, and he has a _terrible_ feeling.

He’s just. In some flat. Not even a particularly nice flat; it’s just a one-room with a ladder leading to a sleeping area in the loft. He would wonder if he’d fucked someone to end up here, but the door is _visibly_ busted, so it’s safe to assume he _let himself in_ , as it were. He’s sitting on a shitty sofa, one of the only furnishings in the spartan place, but every surface is _covered_ in papers. He must have broken into the flat of some broke academic. _Fuck_ , but his head hurts. He might well have drank himself to death, from the variety of shitty he feels at this point. God. He doesn’t know what he was thinking that had him drinking like that, but--no, it won’t help to wonder about it. Better to just move on.

He tries to stand, to leave the flat, but the second he does, his migraine _throbs_ and he decides maybe he should lie down for just a minute. The blinds are closed, but the thin slivers of light sneaking through the cracks are enough to make him wince and cover his face, groaning. He curses aloud, although whether it’s directed at his headache or at himself is unclear.

He’s not certain how much time passes before his head no longer feels like Brian is using it for percussion, but when he sits up again, it’s dark out. He staggers up, rubbing his eyes blearily, when he catches a familiar-looking figure in a picture frame on the “kitchen” counter. It’s too dark to make out, and he doesn’t have the time to examine it any closer because the door is creaking open and an all-too familiar voice is calling out.

“Is anyone in there?” The figure in the door holds--what, a gun? Damn, he didn’t know they were packing. Apart from, well--

“Yeah, I’m--”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before a trigger is pulled and the person, _Lyfrassir bloody Edda_ , has shot him with not a gun but a taser. At a far higher voltage than is legal here, at that. Kind of sexy of them. Or, it might be, if he didn’t hit his head on the corner of the counter on his way to the floor. Something breaks, but it doesn’t last long and it hardly phases him. He’s more concerned with the sudden, violent realization that at some point during his blackout he _found Lyf’s address and broke into their flat._ He might not be a _perfect_ lover, but he does generally try not to be a fucking stalker. Which is definitely what this seems like.

He sits up, donning the mask of a cocky grin. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

Lyf hits the lights, illuminating their handsome, exasperated expression. “Von Raum?”

“In the flesh.” He cocks his head, quirking his eyebrows flirtatiously. “I’m sure you meant to run into my arms again, not tase me.”

Lyf ponders this for a moment. Then they tase him again. Marius gasps, smelling his own burnt hair and trying not to pop a boner this early into--whatever this is. He props himself up on his elbows, grinning at him. God, but he hopes he’s not shaking from anxiety. That wouldn’t be a good look at _all_. Not sexy. Unless they were into--no, not sexy.

“What the hell are you doing here, von Raum?” Lyfrassir is standing above him, looking like they might step on his chest if he gives the wrong answer, and that was _definitely_ the wrong image to conjure right now. “You’ve been missing for over a week.”

Marius lets out a chuckle. “Were you worried about me, Inspector?”

They scowl. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

They stare at him for a long moment before sighing and extending a hand to help him up. He takes it, telling himself the fluttering of his heart is just the taser giving him arrhythmia. “What have you even been doing?”

“Oh, you know, making people swoon. Giving you tons of paperwork.”

“Well, that last part’s true, at least.” They blow out in a way that makes their cheeks puff, making a face of disgust as they pull him up into their personal space. “Gods, von Raum, what, did you spend this week emptying a liquor store?”

“I might have.” He looks away, his nose scrunching up involuntarily. When he glances up again, Lyf is looking at him with something like concern. “It’s fine, what am I gonna do, die?”

They look quite taken aback by that, and he then realizes that he hasn’t actually disclosed his immortality to them. He doesn’t have time to clarify, though, because the next thing he knows he’s being slapped across the face, _hard_. So hard his head spins and his ears ring.

“Lyfr--”

The good Inspector’s hand is a vice around his neck and he’s barely registered the hurt, furious look on their face before they’re kissing him fiercely, with too much teeth and not enough oxygen and he feels like his knees are giving out on him even though they’re holding steady.

“Marius, you’re a bloody fucking idiot.” They kiss him again, not allowing him room to respond, and their grip tightens, making him whimper into their mouth. It’s all he can do not to trip over the piles of paperwork on the floor ( _seriously_ , Edda, get a fucking cabinet or something) as he is dragged by his neck to the terrible couch, but he can’t find it in himself to complain as Lyf throws him back on the cushions, knees over the arm of the sofa and immediately climbs him like a ladder. They straddle him, grinding down on his quickly hardening cock and biting his lip until it bleeds. He groans, leaning his head forward slightly so their foreheads are touching, each of them gasping for air and--he feels something cold and wet fall onto his cheeks.

“Lyf?” He cocks his head slightly, trying to look at them, but their hair is obscuring his view, so he brings a hand up to brush it out of their face and cup their cheek.

They’re crying.

“Shut up, Marius,” they mutter, but they never use that name.

“Lyfrassir.” Marius searches their face looking for some cue as to what he should say, but can’t find any. They look away from him.

“Maybe I _was_ worried. And you were just, what, fucking around this whole time, trying to drink yourself to death?” They take a shaky breath, and there are several grounds on which he could correct them, but he knows this isn’t the time. “And I come home and you’ve broken into my flat. How the fuck did you even know to come here?”

He grimaces. “I’m sorry, I--I actually don’t remember. Probably stole a file or looked you up on whatever passes for the internet in this system.” He pauses. “I really wasn’t in any danger.”

“You got blackout drunk, Marius.”

“Yes, but I promise--”

“No, fuck whatever you’re saying.” They turn back to face them, and they’re still crying but now they look pissed again. It might be hot if Marius didn’t feel so terrible for being the reason they’re crying in a nonsexual way. “Promise not to do that again.”

“Do what?”

“ _Leave._ ”

Marius has a hopeful, terrible feeling that there are some heavy implications which accompany such a request, but their eyes just might be the most beautiful things he’s ever seen and agreeing isn’t a choice so much as it is inevitable. “Never. Not where you can’t find me.”

They rest their head against his, and he should probably tell them a lot of very important things, he’s sure of it, but right now he can’t think of anything that feels more important than wiping their tears away, turning his head, and catching their lips in a kiss so different from their others it could be with someone else except it is decidedly _not_. Lyf’s lips melt against his own, and he cradles them as the warm honey glazing over his thoughts is passed between their tongues, making him drunker than he’s ever been, he’s sure of it.

“Lyfrassir,” he whispers against their lips, certainly about to say something daft.

“I’m still pissed, you know.” Their mouth dips under his jaw, to the place where his jawline meets his neck meets his ear, and sucks, bites, nibbles on his ear. He sighs, lost in bliss.

“Probably fair.” His hands grip their lower back and he pulls them as close as he can. They grind down on him and he gasps.

“More than fair.” They nip at his neck and he bites back a swear. “You shaved years off my life this week with the stress I had just over the fucking paperwork.”

“The _paperwork?_ ”

“I said ‘ _just_.’” They pull back, using their position to leverage more weight the next time they grind down. “I think you owe me one, von Raum.”

“Anything,” he says in earnest. He tries to sit up to meet them but they place a heavy palm on his chest to keep him pinned down and, _oh_ , he likes that.

They smirk. “I imagine you’ll regret saying that.”

“I don’t.”

Their smirk shifts to something a bit more fond and they sink down to steal another kiss with a chuckle. “Safeword, von Raum?”

“Carmilla,” he says without thinking. It’s his usual. He winces. Luckily, they don’t ask about it.

“Mine’s Odin.”

Marius is nothing if not curious, and so he doesn’t extend the same courtesy. “Why?”

“Lady was a bitch and I had to write a fucking dissertation-length paper about her in uni.” They kiss him quickly. “Don’t suppose you want to elaborate on yours?”

Fuck. His hubris. “Too much of a mood-killer. Later, maybe.” He steals a kiss of his own. “Not to rush you but I’m losing my fucking mind a bit wondering what you want to do that requires a safeword.”

They look like they want to correct him on something for a moment, but they just laugh. “As you wish, von Raum.” With that, they remove their shirt in a fluid motion over their head from where they sit, still astride him. He lets out a low whistle and they swat him. “I think I’m going to have to put that mouth to better use.”

“Christ, I’ve been hoping you would.”

“Christ?”

“Oh, uh, forget it.” They look like they want to ask about it, but Marius can’t think of many things less sexy than Jesus, so he takes a different approach. “Please, Lyfrassir, all I’ve thought about for the past month has been how fucking badly I wanted you to smother me with your thighs and if we have to put that on hold to have a non-essential conversation I think I might _actually_ die.”

They glare at him over that, but only a little bit. Marius whimpers pathetically when they stand up, walking up the ladder to the loft. He just stays sat on the couch, head spinning, wondering if he’s supposed to wait or--

“God, I haven’t even _done_ anything to you yet and you’re obeying orders I didn’t even give you. You’re fucking desperate, aren’t you?” They’re poking their head down from the loft with a lopsided grin. He nods frantically, and they laugh. The sound does something funny to his heart that he definitely can’t blame on the taser. “Come on up. I got that couch for free and it’s absolute shit.” Well, at least they recognize that. Marius scrambles to his feet and races up the ladder, grabbing Lyfrassir’s face the moment he reaches the top and kissing them deeply. They reciprocate for a moment before pulling away and schooling their expression into something disapproving.

“Come on, Marius. You were being so _good_ just a moment ago.” His dick twitches and he has to bite his lip to suppress a whimper. “Aren’t you going to be a good fucktoy for me?”

Marius, now biting his lip so hard it bleeds, just nods, every muscle tense. Lyf seems satisfied with that, if their smirk is anything to go on. Their smirk never leaves their face, even as they say in a voice so dark it chills his blood,

“Clothes. Off.”

He makes quick work of the layers which weren’t lost during whatever-the-fuck-happened-last-week, standing at attention in more ways than one for the Inspector to inspect. Lyf hardly spares him a glance, though, instead stepping out of their own trousers. It’s the first time they’ve both been completely nude at the same time, and that fact does _not_ escape his notice, but he’s being good right now so he doesn’t sweep them off the floor and onto his dick the way he briefly fantasizes about. 

He realizes he’s been staring and pulls his gaze back to meet theirs, face flushed and dick twitching, but they just look amused. They’re clearly fully aware of what they’re doing to him when they bend over to pick up a box from under their bed and remove some handcuffs from within. Marius can’t hold back a laugh.

“Handcuffs? A bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

They scowl at him in a way that tells him he’ll regret that but, at the same time, very much _not_ regret it. “Bed.”

He obeys, sitting on the edge with his hands gripping his knees.

“Hands behind your back.”

He obeys, and the cold metal bites into his skin too tightly, he’s going to bleed, but the thought just makes him moan.

“Back against the pillows. Stay sitting up.”

Marius is a bit confused at that, he thought they were going to sit on his face, but he’s not about to talk back again. He’s not a _complete_ idiot. His confusion only builds when Lyf positions themself near the end of the bed with their legs spread, propping themself up with one hand, but that confusion vanishes entirely when he watches the other hand trail down from their own nipple, down their abdomen, through their bush, and then skipping their cunt entirely to trace circles along the inside of their thigh.

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize the moan he’s hearing is his own.

Lyf takes one look at his desperate expression and laughs. “If you want to touch me, you’re going to have to convince me. Otherwise I’m going to bring myself off right here in front of you and then leave you here while I go get drinks with someone else.” At his vaguely hurt expression, they add, “I’d rather you convince me. Obviously.”

He looks at them for a moment, trying to gauge the situation. “...Am I allowed to speak, then?”

They hum, hands dipping between their folds and coming out sticky. They suck thir fingers clean slowly, deliberately, coming off with a _pop_ that makes Marius shudder. “Didn’t say you couldn’t.”

Marius can’t seem to stop the avalanche of words that fall from his lips then, grasping at every thought that pops into his head, trying to find something, anything that will be good enough just to convince them to let him _taste_ . “ _Fuck_ , Lyf, you have to be the sexiest thing Ive ever laid eyes on. I’ve wanted to have you since the first time I saw your cute scowl from across the room--yeah, that’s the one--and I’ve wanted you ever since. I’ve been alive for millennia and I can’t think of anyone or anything else that’s gotten me as hot as you. I want to live and die and live again between your thighs, sucking you off, eating you out, bringing you apart until you can’t break any further and then I want to piece you back together again, I just want to make you feel so good, baby, please, won’t you let me make you feel good?”

Lyf, who has been ghosting their fingers over their cock with increasingly erratic breathing as he’s been rambling, finally seems to snap at that.

“ _Yes._ ”

They lunge across the bed at him, dragging him by his ass so he’s laying down and then they’re riding his face like they’re going to die if they don’t have his mouth on them. Marius is happy to oblige. He licks up into them eagerly like he’s been starving for them, and really, he has been. They taste even better than he remembered because they’re _here_ , now, and he can’t stop himself from smiling against their folds as he catches their dick in his mouth and sucks with just a touch of teeth.

“ _Fuck_ , Marius, you weren’t kidding—oh, _helvete_ .” Marius just hums against their cunt. “ _Gods_ . If I’d known shutting you up would be this pleasant I would have done this years ago.” Marius drags his tongue slowly up their folds, tracing circles around their dick lightly, and they cry out. “I bet if—if I wanted information out of you, I could, I could just, let you eat me out, and you’d tell me whatever I wanted to know just, for the privilege.” Marius grunts his affirmative and their hips shudder, bearing down heavily as they grind against his face, taking their pleasure from him. They definitely break his nose, and he can’t breathe anymore, but that doesn’t stop him from moaning continuously. “You’d better not fucking come from this again, von Raum. I know you’re just a needy fucking whore but if you come before I can get my lips around you I’m keeping you in here for another week and that’ll be the last orgasm you have for all that time.” His dick leaks helplessy at the words, but he manages to comply. Lyf’s string of dirty talk grows increasingly incoherent and they suddenly clench their thighs around his head with _promising_ force as they cry out his name. His first name. 

Marius’s vision is going black around the edges by the time Lyf thinks to lift themself off of his face, falling beside him and taking heaving breaths. 

“I take it I was satisfactory, then?”

“I’m going to kill you to death, von Raum.”

“If you do, please resume your other position for it. Grant a dying man’s last wish.”

They laugh, turning in to face him with their eyes closed and _oh_ , they’re chest to chest now. They’re holding him. He...wasn’t expecting this. Their eyelids flutter open and they open their mouth to say something, but then their gaze fixes just below his eyes with a concerned expression. “Oh, shit, Marius, are you alright?”

“What do you mean?”

They wince. “Your nose, it’s…”

He realizes. “Oh. Yeah, it’s fine. Just one—uh, could you unlock the handcuffs?”

They do, their hands shaking slightly. Marius discretely turns his face away to re-break his nose and within a few seconds it’s healed correctly. The whole time, Lyf is rambling. “Gods, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I just—your hands were tied and you couldn’t use your safeword because I was—“

He turns back to face them and places his slightly-bloody hands over theirs. “Lyf. It’s alright. There’s nothing you could do to hurt me physically.” He laughs. “Except maybe uh, not make good on your promise from earlier, but if you don’t want to you super don’t have to and now that I think about it that was a pretty lame joke to make so—“

He’s cut off when Lyf takes him in their mouth all at once, his own wanton moan echoing through the loft. 

“Oh, _Christ_ , Lyf, honey, you feel incredible—“

They pop off for a moment. “We’re going to have to talk about whatever _Christ_ is.”

Without thinking, Marius grabs a fistful of their hair and shove them back down on his cock, but he immediately realizes what he’s done and lets go. “Sorry, I didn’t—“

Lyf grabs his hand and puts it back in their hair, making eye contact as they sink all the way down to the base of his dick. He bites his lip, gripping their hair firmly and giving a tentative tug. At the resulting moan, they begin to move Lyf up and down on their cock. The searing wet heat of their mouth is nothing short of maddening. “Lyfrassir, do you have any idea how pretty you look like this, drooling on my cock? In my wildest fantasies I never could’ve imagined you’d look so beautiful.” He brushes their cheek with his free hand, moving their head a bit faster now. “I feel—almost sorry for the poor bastards who fucked you in that dive bar. They might have gotten to feel your perfect fucking mouth, but they didn’t get to see you like this.” His thumb traces their eyebrow in a gesture which is probably too tender, and they tap his leg three times rapidly. He lets go immediately and they pop off, gasping, a string of saliva still connecting their mouth to his cock, which twitches at the image. 

“Is everything alright?” He tries not to sound too nervous. 

“I need you inside of me, Marius.” Their voice is hoarse and raw, and Marius is nodding before their next words are even out. “Please, can I ride you?”

“Anything you want, sweetheart. Anything.” They smile at that, wiping their lip and pulling themself more upright. Before they can position themself over him, he interjects, “Can I kiss you?”

They seem a bit taken aback by that, but then they smile and lean in for a kiss that is…more tender than he was expecting. He cups their jaw with care as their hand catches in the hair at the nape of his neck, their mouths slotting together perfectly as their tongues move together, making him dizzy. He doesn’t even notice that they’ve repositioned themselves until suddenly they’ve slid down on him raw, sinking slowly until they’re sitting on his hips and pulling away to tilt their head back, leaving their neck perfectly exposed. 

He isn't going to last long. 

They grunt as they move their hips in circles, trying to adjust. The expression on their face is one of pleasure, but it’s not completely devoid of pain. Marius frowns. 

“Are you okay, baby?” He places a hand in the small of their back to steady them and definitely for no other reason. They nod with a grimace. 

“It’s, um, it’s been a while,” they admit, “and your dick—um, well, my eyes were a bit bigger than my—uh.”

Marius stills their hips with a steady hand, fixing them with a careful gaze. “You don’t have to do this, it’s okay to change your mind.”

“No, I want to! Just.” Their eyes close. “Gimme a second to adjust.”

He does so, taking in the sight of them and trying not to let his cock twitch too much. It’s a losing battle. After a moment, they say, “Do you maybe want to kiss me some more?”

In response; he leans forward and holds them close in his arms, reveling in the skin on skin as he kisses them sweetly, although not lacking in heat. Without warning, they begin to move slowly up and down his dick, the sensation of their skin clinging to him every time they go to pull off a bit driving him very nearly to the brink far quicker than he wanted. 

“Slow _down_ ,” he says with a groan. 

Some of the teasing is back in Lyf’s voice, which is hot and therefore unhelpful. “I _am_ going slow, von Raum.”

“Marius right now, please.” He presses a sloppy kiss to their clavicle and they gasp. “And this has been the hottest night of my life, so you’ll forgive me if I have a bit of a hair trigger after getting my disk sucked by the most handsome person in the Yggdrasil system.”

They flush, but mercifully slow down. “You said that last time.”

“Every night I spend with you is the new hottest night of my life.” He slips a hand between the two of them to find their dick, and they cry out against his ear,

“ _Älskling—_ “

“I’m here, sweetheart.”

“Marius—“

He kisses them and works his hand faster, their hips stuttering as they bounce their hips in a pace to match. Eventually they both break away, gasping. 

“Fuck, Marius, I’m so close—“

“I’m close too, baby, I don’t—I can’t hold back for much longer, and I’m not wearing a condom—“ He’s barely keeping it together, and he knows it doesn’t actually matter given his...peculiarities, but _they_ don’t know that.

“Hel, Marius, I don’t fucking care, want you to come in me, I want to feel you, just, please, don’t stop, I’m so fucking close, I love you so much please don’t stop—“

It’s at that moment Marius loses control altogether, hips stuttering up to meet theirs as ecstasy covers him in waves, quickly turning into pain as Lyf doesn’t slow their pace even slightly. He keeps moving his hand between them, but their expression is frustrated. 

“Marius—please—I need—“

“I know, love, come up here.” He lays back and they waste no time, sliding off his dick and immediately grinding down on his face like he’s their own personal sex toy. He’s a bit blissed out, but the tongue is the strongest muscle in the body, and his tongue is exceptionally so. He does his best to lavish them, but they’re pressing even harder than before and it seems to be taking them a while to get there, and by the time he realizes he’s slipping away he’s been oxygen-deprived for so long he doesn’t have the strength to raise his arm to signal them. 

When he wakes up, Lyf is holding him to their chest and weeping. 

“Lyf?”

They yelp and drop him.

“Oof. Is that how you thank a guy for an excellent lay?”

They touch his face, bewilderment spelled all over their face. “You were dead. I took your pulse, you were gone for almost ten minutes, you—you were _dead_ , Marius.”

Marius’s grin vanishes and he takes them into his arms. “I’m sorry, I—I meant to tell you before.”

“I got myself off on the face of a fucking _corpse_ , Marius.” Their voice is altogether too small. 

“Not really, if you think about it.” He scoops them into their arms, and they sob even harder. “Because I can’t die. I just can’t. Carmilla? That’s the name of the doctor who did this to me. She fucked me up and now I’m immortal, which pretty much ruined my moral code but does allow me to engage with some pretty exciting kinks.”

Lyf laughs weakly. “You were still dead, though.”

“Not really.” He caresses their face with his right hand. His Mechanism. “As long as this thing is still working, so am I.”

They don’t look completely convinced, so he kisses their forehead. “If it helps, I think it’s really sexy that—what you just said. What happened. It’s a pretty big turnon for me.”

They look at him skeptically. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I once had a guy blow my brains out while I was sucking off his gun and afterwords I had an incredible orgasm.”

Their face now is closer to morbid curiosity, which, at least, he can work with. 

“We probably have some. Other stuff to talk about, too.”

“Like how you need to go back to jail soon?”

He winces. Jail is fine, but he can’t fuck Lyf there. In the background of his mind, he begins planning his next breakout. “No. Like how I came inside of you.”

Now it’s Lyf’s turn to wince. 

“We should have talked about it first, I just—I was trusting you to make the best decisions for yourself, which. Is hard to do when you’re horny.” He clears his throat. “But, uh, I’m actually super sterile. And my Mechanism kills any disease within a day or two of contracting it at most, so I’m clean.”

Lyf frowns, not meeting his eyes. “How do you know you didn’t sleep with anyone over this past week?”

He smiles fondly at them and presses a kiss to their forehead. “I was too busy moping over you, and that wouldn’t be my style.”

They do perk up at that, but their smile fades quickly. “Look, um; about what I said—“

“You mean when you said that you love me?” Saying the words makes his heart flutter. “If you don’t want to talk about it, or if you didn’t mean it, that’s fine—“

“I meant it. I wouldn’t take that back just because I’m embarrassed.” They scowl. “I’m not a child. But I’m sorry for saying it so soon. That was stupid.”

Marius tilts their head up and kisses them slowly, sweetly. 

“I love you too, Lyfrassir.” The words are barely a whisper over their lips, and carry the weight of a promise. Then their lips collide again, and Marius doesn’t have time to consider the consequences at all. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius and Lyf at a sex party what crimes will they commit

Lyf isn’t quite certain about dating etiquette as a general rule, but when it comes to dating a prisoner at the jail you sometimes work at who keeps breaking out to hook up with you, they’re completely lost. Not that they’re dating, obviously. They’re friends with benefits at best. And feelings. Friends with benefits and feelings, and promises, and secrets, and a complicated messy power dynamic that gives them a headache every time they think about it so they mostly try not to. 

Whatever they are or aren’t, it’s been a week since Marius broke into their flat and maybe five days since he returned to prison (what the wardens didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them) and Lyf is already _stupidly_ horny. Since getting back in his cell, a new string of crimes that he apparently committed have found themselves on their desk, demanding their attention as well as interviews with the culprit himself. He made it clear Lyfrassir was the only cop he’s speak to, and they were low enough on the ladder to be expendable for dumb shit like this. Which meant they were constantly being put into examination rooms alone with him, no one watching on the other side of the glass because no one cared, but the camera which someone could hypothetically watch them from ensures that even as Marius smirks at them, handcuffed to the table and practically begging them to jump his bones, they can’t do anything about it.

They think they might be losing their mind. 

They must be, of course, because they mention a kink event happening at a house party within earshot of the cell, hoping foolishly that Marius will get the hint to join them there and not think they’re trying to let him down easy or make him jealous. 

They’re hoping he breaks out of prison so they can tie him up in a room of strangers and fuck his brains out. They’re a horrible cop. They’re so fucking horny. 

They’re half expecting, when they show up at the house party wearing their best lingerie under a little black dress, their hair pulled back in a high ponytail and their favorite smudge-proof lipstick on, to spend the evening sulking and probably drinking until they end up blowing some other single weirdo. Then they see him. He’s already here, even though they arrived ten minutes early themself. They lock eyes from across the way, and they look him up and down, taking in his trenchcoat, combat boots, and blood-red lipstick which, from the look of it, will be coating their skin within the first five minutes. Not that they’re complaining. They consider playing it cool, maybe grabbing some drinks and heading over to him, but his eyes are drinking them in like he’s starving as much as they are and they can’t stop themself from crossing the distance between the two of them. 

“I’m beginning to think you’re following me, von Raum.”

“I am. On Space Twitter. You really need to stop talking shit about your boss online.”

They laugh, pulling him in for a quick, deep kiss. When they pull away, it’s not far, and their hands remain looped around the back of his neck. “It’s good to see you, Marius. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it.”

“Why, because I was in prison?” One of his hands grabs their hip and the other cups their cheek, pulling them in for another heated kiss. “As if that has ever stopped anyone.”

“It definitely has.”

“Then their partners must have sucked ass in an unsexy way, because I can’t think of anything that would have stopped me from coming.”

Lyf kisses him sweetly, then whispers against his ear, “I can think of a few things to stop you from coming.” He groans in response, pulling them in for an earnest kiss. It deepens quickly, Marius licking into their mouth playfully as they grip the front of his trenchcoat tightly.

“Can you take this thing off?” they mumble against his lips. They feel more than see him smile, and he’s quickly pulling away to unbutton the damn thing.

“I thought you’d never ask, darlin’.” He lets it fall to the floor with a flourish that _has_ to be rehearsed, and Lyfrassir’s jaw drops in surprise. Completely unwarranted surprise, of course, because Marius has always been a dramatic fucker and he’s always been attractive but--he’s just.

He’s just wearing frilly underwear and garters with green-and-red thigh-highs. And the combat boots. Nothing else. When they drag their gaze back up to his eyes, he’s smirking impishly.

“Like what you see?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” they say, kissing him fiercely, pressing him into the wall as their hands explore his exposed skin, finding their way to his crotch, where they find him quickly hardening. He moans and suddenly the turns have tabled and their back is against the wall as his mouth is on their neck and his hands are gripping their thighs, their dress hiking up, them grinding down on his cock through their layers, and Marius is _biting_ and they might as well be alone for all anyone else matters in this moment. It’s all they can do to get his name out, and then they can’t stop, his name falling from their lips again and again like a fervent prayer.

“I know, that’s my name, sweetheart.” He growls against their clavicle. The sound reverberates in their chest and they moan. “Sounds better coming from your lips.”

“ _Marius_.”

“Still my name.” He kisses them on the lips and they lean into it, but then they pull away because--

“Do you. Remember when we were in the toilets?”

He snorts. “Sexy way of putting it, but yes.”

Lyf squirms in his arms, the heat and _need_ between their legs literally driving them up a wall. “Marius, I need--I want--”

Recognition dawns in his expression, followed by a smirk. “Yeah? We’re there now?” They nod frantically, gasping as he goes after their neck with tongue and teeth. “I was hoping we’d loop back around to this, gorgeous.” With that, he hoists them easily higher up the wall (thank fuck for raised ceilings) so their legs wrap around his head. He kisses the inside of their thigh, sweetly at first, then eventually biting. They bite their own fist, but it doesn’t do much to stifle their moans.

“Marius.”

“Still got it, I see. Glad to see you haven’t forgotten.”

“ _Please_ , just eat me out.”

“‘Just?’” He pouts dramatically.

Their voice comes out strangled, but frankly they think that’s fair. “If you eat me out I’ll peg you here in front of everyone.” His eyes widen at that, expression difficult to read, and panic joins the horny. “I mean, if you--”

“I don’t have the words to express just how badly I want that, Lyfrassir.” He noses in under their dress, making them gasp, and when he speaks next, they feel his breath through their lacy underwear and they bite their lip. “Just promise you’ll make good on it no matter how thoroughly I take you apart.”

They mutter something about promises, but the words aren’t even out of their mouth when his nose is moving their underwear out of the way and oh _fuck_ his mouth is on them, hot and pressing, insistent, his tongue moving deftly, intensity ebbing and flowing, and Lyf is certain they’re speaking but they have no idea what they’re saying. Marius is even better than they remember, he always is, and they’re coming so close so quickly and--

He pulls away. The cheeky fucking bastard, he pulls away, removes his face from between their thighs, and when he pulls his head out from under their dress he’s dripping from his nose to his chin but he just looks so satisfied with himself--does he think--

“I didn’t come yet, Marius.” It’s impossible to keep the pleading out of their voice.

“I know.” He slides them down his body to the floor and they’re still so, so sensitive, but he makes sure they find their footing. “How does that make you feel?” They glare at him. “Angry?” Deep breath. “I bet it makes you angry. Bet you want to take it out on--”

They’re storming off across the room before he can finish his thought, and suddenly his bluster evaporates. Good. They don’t turn around until they reach where they set their jacket and their toybox. Without further ado, they pull their dress over their head, leaving it there so it doesn’t get messed up, and turns around, walking right past Marius and his deeply flustered face. They can’t say they blame him. They imagined the reveal before coming here: they’re wearing a black bra with a pretty series of straps, and around the underwear, a place for a strap of a different kind altogether. Now, though, they don’t even look at him, instead noting the appraising looks they’re getting from people around the room. One person, they note, has their cock in hand, stroking it gently as they watch Lyfrassir and his--Marius. The eyes on them burn and electrify, and they decide they deserve to watch, too. They walk past Marius with their box towards the wall-length mirror they saw earlier. Marius follows, because of _course_ he does. He is notably silent.

Finally, they turn to look at him. He looks stressed and desperately aroused. Good.

“Underwear off. On your knees.” He wastes no time complying, and soon he kneels before them with only his high socks and garters on, which is a _delicious_ image. They half wish they had a camera. “Safeword the same?”

“Yes.” He practically pants the word, and they haven’t even gotten started but he’s already leaking all over. They snort.

“Gods, you’re pathetic, von Raum.” They strut to him, toy box in hand, and lift a heeled shoe up to step lightly on his dick. He lets out a whimper. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you can barely control yourself. I’m surprised you didn’t come in your pants in the two minutes you were eating me out.” They bear down a bit harder, being careful to watch his reaction. He’s trembling, but he hasn’t used his safeword, so-- “I think I know what a cum rag like you deserves.” They grab him by the throat and lean down to whisper in his ear, “I’m going to fuck you against the mirror until you come all over yourself like the pathetic whore you are, and you’re going to watch yourself fall apart while all of these people get off to your screams.”

Marius sobs as well as he can while being choked. “ _Please_.” And, well, who is Lyf to refuse him?

“Palms against the mirror,” they growl, looking on with smug satisfaction as he scrambles to comply without rising from his knees. Gods, but this is going to be fun. They smack him on the arse. Not too hard, yet. “ _Standing_ , von Raum.” He rises quickly, in more ways than one, and they laugh, taking in the greater number of eyes on them now hungrily. “You’re such a needy little slut. You’re not even going to pretend to stand up for yourself? With all these people watching?” They lock eyes with him in the mirror. “You’re so fucking pathetic.” As if on cue, he whines, and they turn once more to grab two things from their box: a bottle of lube and a dildo they picked out just for the occasion.

“How do you like the look of this, sweetheart?” They take the dildo in question—a sparkly green-and-red one that’s a bit on the ambitious size for anal play, but which they couldn’t stop themself from getting when they saw it—and hold it above his head so he can see it in the mirror. He bites his lip, but a strangled moan escapes nonetheless. They smirk, taking that as a positive sign, but still teasing with it, bringing it down between his legs and dragging the tip along the underneath side of his dick, over his balls and perineum, just brushing over his entrance. “Do you think you can take it?” Marius shudders, and they haul back and bring it down on his ass _hard_ . He lets out something between a cry and a whimper. “ _Answer_ me, Marius.”

“Yes, please oh fuck, Lyf, God, please fuck me, I can take it, I promise.” He arches his back more, sticking his ass out for emphasis. They kiss the nape of his neck a bit more tenderly than they mean to, but such is the way of things with Marius, they suppose. They affix the strap to their harness and squirt lube onto their fingers. They’re holding their hands above his shoulder so he can watch them warm it up, really confront what’s about to happen, when he cries out, “No!”

They’re a bit taken aback, but they immediately drop their hands, stepping around to lean against the mirror right next to him, look him in the eyes. “Hey, we didn’t really talk about consent play, I can’t tell if you—“

He’s shaking his head halfway through their sentence. “No, I meant—don’t warm the lube.”

“What?”

“Don’t—I.” For some reason, _this_ is the thing he’s embarrassed about. Lyf finds that hopelessly endearing, but tries to keep their face neutral. “The cold is. Nice.”

They can’t stop themself from leaning in to steal a kiss, which Marius returns eagerly until they pull away. Still, they suppose they deserve one last tender comment. As a treat. 

“Whatever you need.” They step back around and back into their role, squeezing fresh lube onto their fingers and pressing two of them immediately (although gingerly) into his ass. He gasps, but it quickly turns into a moan when they crook their fingers _just so_ inside of him, his eyes squeezing tight and head falling to his chest. “Fuck, just look at yourself.” He obeys, and the sight of him looking into his own eyes as they pry him open on their fingers is enough to make them throb with need. But there will be time for that. “How long have you fantasized about this, von Raum? Coming apart on my fingers, letting me use you however you want. Did you picture it like this?”

To their surprise, Marius shakes his head. “In—in my mind it was—in the cell.”

Lyf raises an eyebrow, pulling out their fingers only to squirt some more lube and add another finger. They stay silent, and he continues. 

“You were—you were alone, everyone else had gone home, but you were stuck there, had to—to watch us, make sure we didn’t escape. And you were pissed about it, you wanted to—ah!—g-go home, so when I flirted you just, you snapped, you came into the cell and oh _Jesus fucking Christ_.”

Lyf knows who Jesus Christ is at this point and they smirk as they work in their fourth finger. “Did I say you could stop?”

“A-and you just, you shoved my face into the dirt and pulled out your dick and just, just fucked me, no prep—“

“Doesn’t sound much like me.”

“This is so much better, Lyf, you’re so—you’re so _much—_ “ He bucks his hips back seemingly uncontrollably. “Please, Lyf, _please_ , I need you inside of me.”

Their tone is wry. “I _am_ inside of you.”

“Please, please, fuck me, I need your strap so bad—“

“What are you, Marius?” They withdraw their fingers and line themself up.

“A—a slut, your slut—“

“And?”

“A needy, dirty whore, a cumdump, a fucktoy, _yours_ , Lyf, _please—_ “

They mean to enter him slowly. They really do. But at the sound of him begging their hips thrust forward of their own volition, going almost all the way in on the first thrust and then holding as Marius _keens_. His arms and legs are trembling, and around the room Lyf can see at least half a dozen people watching them, touching themselves, touching each other, and they let out a groan.

“How are you doing?” Their voice is gentle and they weave a hand into his hair, getting a grip but not pulling yet. 

“If you don’t start moving I’m going to die.”

“No, you’re not,” they say with a laugh, but they start moving their hips anyway. “I love you like this, you know. Look at all these people. They wish they were fucking you, but I won’t let them. You’re mine now, Marius.” They pull the hair in their clenched fist, forcing his head back so his neck is nice and exposed, and he has to look down to see anything but the ceiling. “I would withhold your orgasm from you like you so _rudely_ did me, but I don’t think you’re capable of restraining yourself even with my help. Look at you. Just got started and you’re already leaking.” He is, in fact. His dick has gone a bit limp from the penetration, but the half-hard thing is leaking profusely from the tip, oozing down his member and dripping to the floor. They pick up their pace and his moans become one continuous string of noise. “You have to be the most pathetically desperate thing I’ve ever played with. You know that?”

“Y-yeah—”

“Too bad there aren’t any cameras here. Maybe then you could watch this while you wanked, train yourself to have some fucking self-control.” They punctuate this remark with a particularly vicious thrust and tears begin falling from Marius’s eyes, but he also bites his lip so they keep going. “Hell, I’m surprised you’ve managed to last this long. Are you on your best behavior for our audience? Maybe I should have them line up to suck your cock, after all, but tell them they’re not allowed to make you come. Get you trained nice and good so you can fuck me for longer than ten minutes.”

“Lyfrassir, I—” Marius cuts himself off with a whimper and they chuckle. 

“What was that? Spit it out.”

“I-I’m close.” He looks a bit embarrassed to be admitting it. They don’t slow their pace. 

“And?”

He furrows his brow, struggling to speak. “P-please, can I come?”

“I’m sure you can.” Their hips are relentless, and their hands go to his hips to steady him as he trembles. 

“ _May_ I?” he spits out, sounding annoyed. Good. 

They pretend to mull it over for a moment. “Well, you have been good for me since I bent you over. I suppose you may.” They grip his hips tighter and lean in to whisper, “ _Come for me._ ”

Ever obedient, Marius spills onto the mirror with a strangled cry that sounds like it could be their name. Lyf slows down slightly but doesn’t stop, even as Marius’s arms buckle and he comes flush against the glass. His moans get louder for a moment before turning to whimpers, and then he shakes his head fervently. 

“ _Carmilla_ , C—“

That’s what they were waiting for, and they’re out of him before he’s even finished saying the word. They wrap their arms around him tightly, pressing their weight down on him as he shudders. 

“You were so good, Marius, so good for me. Perfect. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“I’m—I’m good. That was really fucking good. Just got a bit much, at the end.” He leans his head back to try to rest against theirs, and Lyf takes the cue to turn him around and pull him in to hold them, chest to chest. He rests his cheek against theirs immediately, clutching to them like he’s going to slip away if he doesn’t. 

“Thank you so much for telling me. You were so wonderful, Marius, I enjoyed that. Thank you for being so good for me. Thank you for telling me when you needed to stop.” They kiss his neck tenderly, and he sighs. 

“Thank you for—thank you. That was euphoric.” He pulls back slightly to press a clumsy kiss to their lips, doing something funny to their heart. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” They go to kiss him again, but he pulls away with a laugh. 

“Can we please sit down? There’s a very real chance you fucked all the bones in my body to liquid.”

“Oh dear,” they say, leading him in the direction of an empty sofa immediately. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“S’fine, they’ll grow back.” He presses a kiss to their jaw and they giggle. “Wanna sit on my face?”

“Quite possibly. In a minute.” They sit down and Marius very nearly falls into their lap, and they hold him fondly. “I do love you.”

Marius turns his face towards them, and kisses them softly. The people they’d been so aware of just a minute ago once again fade away. Against their lips, he breathes, “I love you.”

Lyfrassir loses track of time and themself in his lips, trembling against their own as if they hadn’t just made him scream, tenderly trading declarations of love with every gasp, every slide of their tongues, every bump of their teeth. At some point Marius pulls them down on top of him, and then they’re wrapping their arms around his neck and kissing him deep and slow, and Marius has a hand on their hip and a hand on the small of their back, pressing them close and it’s all so comforting they have to keep pulling away to gasp for air even though by all logic they shouldn’t be breathless. They lose track of everything but the grounding weight of Marius, and they think they say _I love you_ a lot and they don’t know why they keep repeating that but it feels terribly important that he _knows_ , and every time he catches their confession in his mouth, returns it, moans against them. They feel the sound somewhere deep in their chest, filling some cavity that’s been eating them alive, and they _love him_. 

“What, I show up fashionably late and miss all the fun?” That voice—

“I don’t know, I’m having a great time.” Marius doesn’t even miss a beat, speaking and then returning to the kiss. They sit up to see—

“La Cognizi?” They look up at her in confusion, taking her in and then doing a double-take as she stands before them, hands on her hips, wearing lacy red lingerie and nothing else which, combined with her wings—well. Lyfrassir had their first wet dream shortly after watching a film about Valkyries. 

“When I’m not in a cell, it’s Raphaella.” She cocks her head. “Were you not expecting me?”

“Er–well, no, actually.” Marius is rubbing soothing circles on their hipbones, and it’s _distracting_. “Did you two break out together?” They look down at Marius. “Did you know she was coming?”

He shrugs. “Surprise?”

They sit back a bit, not quite offended, but—unsure of what they’re feeling. “Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?”

“I thought she was kidding, honestly. And, um.” His expression is somewhere between guilty and bashful. “Once I saw you I kind of forgot.”

They look down at him with frustration and endearment, and Raphaella speaks up. 

“Sorry, should I go?”

“No!” Lyf surprises even themself with how quickly they respond. Both of the others look at them, and they feel heat rise to their face. They look at Marius. “We’ll—um, we’ll talk about this more later, but—“ They turn their gaze to Raphaella, who smirks at them, and they’re suddenly _very_ aware that they haven’t come yet, heat pooling between their legs. “...if you’re both into this—I am, too.” The two of them seem to exchange a Look(™), and then Marius is sitting up to meet Lyf with another kiss, undeniably hornier than before. When they finally pull away to look at Raphaella, she’s on her knees in front of them, and— _oh_. 

“I don’t think I caught your safeword, Inspector?”

“Lyfrassir.”

She looks at them in confusion“Your—your safeword is—“

“No, just—don’t call me Inspector here. My safeword is Odin.”

Raphaella shoots a difficult-to-read glance at Marius, but when they turn to look at him his expression is neutral. They look back to Raphaella, but whatever expression was there before is gone. She smiles. 

“Mine’s Carmilla.” They try not to frown at that, but probably do a bad job. “Would you like me to eat you out, Lyfrassir?”

Lyf feels their face heat up, and they just nod. She doesn’t move, so they speak up. “Yes, please.”

She laughs, and it’s musical in a way they don’t think they’ve noticed before now. “How formal.”

“Please, can you just— _oh_.”

If receiving head from Marius is like a dance, receiving from Raphaella is like a sprint. They’re so amped up from the whole situation that every nerve on their body is like a live wire, and she buries her head between their legs immediately, licking and sucking at them through their underwear. The lace drags across their skin with just barely too much friction, and their head falls against Marius’s shoulder as they moan. He’s holding them as Raphaella works at their dick through the maddening layer of fabric, and a glance down shows that his dick is twitching with renewed interest. Clumsily, they reach for it, to palm it. 

“Do—do you want me to?”

He shrugs. “If you like.” He cups their cheek, pulls them in for a sensual kiss, and they keen into his mouth as the friction of the lace begins traveling in the direction of _too much_. “I’m just enjoying the show right now, love.”

They do like, so they begin sloppily working his cock, coaxing it back up as they groan. They’re just beginning to consider asking Raphaella to move the underwear out of the way when she pulls away, and they’re as grateful as they are disappointed. 

“You weren’t kidding, Marius. They taste wonderful.” She drags a finger down between their folds and they can’t quite process what she just said, because she’s pulling the underwear aside and her breath is so hot against their cunt that they’re trembling. 

“They really do. I could die between their legs and be quite happy.” He smirks at them, and they would snark back, but then Raphaella is licking them, pulling their dick into her mouth and sucking and it’s all they can do to clutch at one of his hands, the hand that was stroking him stuttering and stopping. 

“Christ,” they mutter, and based on the way Marius’s cock twitches in their hand, that was a good choice of words. Word. They can’t exactly think straight with every suck, every lick serving a precise purpose: bringing them closer to the edge. To her credit, once Raphaella has set her mind to something, she really doesn’t quit. Lyf thinks about how nice it is to be getting something out of that quality other than extra paperwork, and knots one of his hands in her hair, pressing her face down with force as they edge ever closer.

Then Marius’s mouth is on their neck, and things start to go a bit blurry. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to really look at you like this.” A kiss on the collarbone. “As lovely as the view is from between your legs, I don’t usually get to see your face—you’re stunning, you know that?” Hot lips on their jaw. Hot lips licking into their cunt. “Did you picture this, Lyfrassir? Before we got together? Did you want me the way I’ve wanted you?” 

They moan in response, their orgasm so fucking close, but Marius taps Raphaella on the shoulder and she stops. They can’t stop themself from crying out. 

“Gods fucking fuck, Marius, Raphaella, please, I can’t, please, I need—”

“Just answer me, honey.”

“Yes, I—oh, _fuck—_ “ Raphaella’s mouth has returned to where they need it, and they’re not as close as they were, but they’re still so _close_. 

“Yes, Lyfrassir?” Marius kisses their ear, dragging his teeth over cartilage in a way that sends an unexpected shudder through their body, which only drives them further into Raphaella’s mouth. 

“I wanted you, wanted you both, of course I did, but I could never— _fuck_ , I could never think like that, could never let myself—oh, _gods_.”

Marius turns their head to face him and catches their mouth in a searing kiss. They’re just, they’re just keening into his mouth, honestly, because Raphaella knows what the fuck she’s doing with her tongue, and then they’re just panting with their head pressed to Marius’s. 

“I—I’m—“

“Why don’t you show Raphaella how pretty you sound when you’re falling apart?”

Lyfrassir is coming before he’s even done with his sentence, their hips bucking up, but Raphaella holds them down as her tongue keeps going, and their pleasure twists into something overwhelming, and they squirm under her grasp.

“Ra-Raphaella, I’ve, I already—”

“She knows, love.” Marius presses a kiss to their forehead. “I think she wants another. Do you think you can go for another?”

“I—I don’t—ah!—I don’t know, I’m—“

Marius holds them close, one hand looped under their arm and holding their shoulder, the other resting comfortingly on their abdomen as they writhe in pain and pleasure. “I think you can. I’d like to see that beautiful expression again. But if you’re uncomfortable, you know how to make it stop.” He holds them tightly, lavishing him with kisses as Raphaella somehow speeds up her tongue, and then their back is arching off of Marius’s chest and then they’re floating away somewhere, pleasure ripping through them with a thin string of pain pulling them back together.

When they come back to themself, Raphaella’s licking has mercifully slowed to all but a stop, mostly comprising now of soft kisses pressed to the inside of their thighs. 

“Lyf? You back with us?” Marius’s voice is gentle and they lean into it, letting him cradle them as Raphaella stands up and joins them, sitting on their other side. They end up leaning their body in the direction of Marius, but leaning their head back towards Raphaella. It’s nice. “Lyf?”

Oh, fuck. They haven’t answered. “I’m good. That was a lot.” Raphaella tenses a bit. “ _Good_ a lot. Haven’t felt this fucked out in a while.”

“I’ll try not to take offense to that,” Marius says, but his tone is teasing. They want to make a clever retort, but their brain is jelly, so they give him a smooch instead. 

“You’re probably not feeling up to more, then, huh?” Raphaella. 

They shake their head fervently. “No, I’m going to eat you out. Just give me, like, five minutes. And maybe, uh, is there some juice?”

Raphaella laughs and stands up. They immediately lament the loss of her presence beside them. “Despite what Marius’s dick is doing, I probably have the most functional bones between the three of us right now. I’ll grab you a Space Capri Sun.”

“Thank you,” they say, but she’s already walking away. Thinking over what just happened, they turn their head to face Marius. “Hey.”

Something in their tone seems to make him apprehensive, but he smiles. “Hey.”

“So.”

“So?”

“We should probably talk about a few things.”

Marius visibly pales, but he nods. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Um. So I probably would have liked a heads-up that she was coming.”

He actually seems to calm down a bit at that, nodding before they’re even done talking. “Yes, I’m sorry about that. She said something about how you bringing it up in front of her felt like an invitation, but I thought she was kidding, and—and I’m sorry.”

They give him a soft smile and a kiss. “It’s alright. I would just appreciate a heads up next time.”

“Next time?”

“Hush. Also, um, were you telling her about…” They clear their throat. “How I taste?”

Marius turns red as a cherry in record time. “I think I. Might have overshared when I was gushing to her and Ivy.”

They laugh. Honestly, they were expecting worse. “What is your relationship with them, anyway?”

“Oh, well.” He watches his own hand where it traces circles on their shoulder. “Most of us on—the ship I’m part of the crew for, most of us are together in some way. Not a way that would involve labels. But various ways that involve fucking and sucking and cucking and like. Guns.”

“Don’t like labels, huh?” they ask with a laugh. He swallows. 

“Actually, I, um. I enjoy labels. But they don’t fit most of our relationships. There’s too much hate mixed in with the love.”

They watch his face carefully, but it’s more guarded than they’ve ever seen it. “Does it bother you that we don’t have a label?”

Marius shakes his head, but he also looks away. “It doesn’t _bother_ me. I’m sure there’s plenty of hate mixed in with our love, too.”

Lyf feels something inside of them curdle at that, but they try to force themself to don a joking tone. “Do you hate me?”

“No!” He’s looking at them now, his gaze burning with emotion. They follow the logic of his words, and their heart breaks a little. They reach a hand up to his cheek, and search for the right words. 

“I don’t hate you, Marius.”

He looks at them with skepticism and they _do_ hate _that_. “I get on your nerves.”

“Often.”

“I make your life incredibly difficult.”

“Indubitably so.”

“You really don’t hate me?” His eyebrows twist upwards and his lips carry the faintest ghost of a smile. “Not even a little?”

“No hate in my love, Marius.” They plant a kiss between his eyebrows. “I promise.”

Marius smiles, then looks over to the direction of the kitchen. “What’s taking her so long?”

“Um. Marius.” They direct his attention to the floor nearby, where there are two Space Capri Suns and a sticky note that just says _I’m getting laid. You two sort your shit. You both owe me oral. - R.L.C._

“...Well.”

They look at each other and both laugh. 

“Do you want to come home with me?” they ask through their giggles. 

“Please.” 

The walk home is strange. They travel hand in hand, and something like contentment blooms in their heart. They wonder, a bit, whether it can last. This thing between them is complicated in so many ways, and he’s immortal, and they’re—but. They decide, for once in their godsdamn life, not to worry. And with Marius’s hand in their own and his smile dazzling them, that’s never been easier to do. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ratatosk Express has arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this chapter at 2:30 AM so technically I didn't update twice in one day lmao  
> is this restraint?

The Ratatosk Express has arrived. 

Which is a real pain in the ass for Lyf. They had enough on their plate before that stupid train showed up with its stupid mysteries and its stupid dead tyrants and its stupid black box and Lyf feels like they haven’t relaxed in a week even though the Express only arrived yesterday. So, if they mentioned to in passing their—Marius that they were feeling stressed and could use a break, where was the harm in that? It’s not like they were hoping he’d break out of jail to fuck them or anything. No, that would be absurd. 

Still, when they see Marius lounging on their sofa when they get home, they feel like no one can blame them for immediately dropping their shit, slamming the door closed behind them, and getting the fuck out of their clothes. 

“Rough day at work?” Marius jokes from the other side of the room. 

“You’d better be naked,” they say in a huff, striding over towards him, ready to ride him into the fucking sun. 

“I’m—I’m not, actually—can we sit down?” He’s nervous. Fuck, that can’t be a good sign. They force a chuckle. 

“Rather sit on your dick, but sure.” This is a breakup conversation. It has to be. They should have told him they would enjoy being together when he brought up labels, and now he’s gotten second thoughts, and oh fuck he’s been talking.

He looks at them, his expression somewhere between endeared and exasperated. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve been saying, have you.” It’s not a question, so he just sighs and continues. “I need to ask you something.”

“You’re not proposing already, are you? I’ll have to tell my mums.” Marius doesn’t laugh at their very good joke, so they settle in, trying to ignore the churning of their stomach. Whatever this is, it can’t be good. 

“I want you to run away with me.” Marius looks them dead in the eyes, not a trace of joking to be found. He’s...serious. 

“You’re serious.” They stand up, walking to the wall and dragging a hand down their face. “Marius, this is—why would you ask me this?”

“I’ve wanted to for a while, honestly, I just—it occurred to me, we never know how much time we have, you know—“

“You’re immortal.”

“And I don’t want to lose a moment with you, Lyfrassir.” Marius crosses the room to join them, and although he doesn’t reach out physically, it’s clear that he wants to. “Please. You hate this job, so forget it. If you hate my friends, we can go alone. Time is so precious and there’s so little of it I have with you, and I wasted years being an idiot, and I’m done. I’m not losing you. I love you and if you don’t love me forever I understand but right now you _do_ and you have _no idea_ how long it’s been since anyone has loved me without any hate.”

“Marius.” They cup his cheek and he leans into it so desperately their heart aches. “Do you think I’m going to leave you?”

He shakes his head quickly, but he doesn’t clarify.

“Why do you think you’re going to lose me?”

He turns his head, pressing kisses to their fingertips, but it doesn’t put them at ease. “You’re...mortal, Lyf.”

“Yes, as are most people,” they can’t stop themself from snarking.

“Most people die.” He looks in their eyes as if that’s supposed to be anything other than a statement of obvious fact.

“That’s true. You’ve been known to die yourself from time to time, if I recall.” They manage a wink.

“Most people don’t come _back._ ”

“Such is the human condition.”

He rakes a hand through his hair desperately. “Please, Lyf, there’s not much time, you don’t understand--”

“No, honey, I think I understand just fine.” They take his mechanical hand in their own, lovingly running their thumb over the metal. “When was the last time you loved someone you could lose?” He looks away from them, silent. “I think you’re having an anxious meltdown about the fact that existential dread suddenly affects you. Which is understandable.”

Marius looks at them in the eyes, and he’s crying. “I have a terrible feeling everything is about to go wrong, Lyfrassir.”

“Not us. Never us, Marius. We both promised.” They press a kiss to his lips. “The great thing about being mortal is I can make promises without eternity looming ahead of me in which to break them.” They chuckle. “So when I tell you I love you and I’m not leaving, know I can promise that. And with me, you can promise that, too.”

“When you say you’re not leaving. Do you mean you’re not leaving me? Or that you’re not leaving _with_ me?” 

“Both.”

There’s a depth of emotion in his eyes that they would have never thought possible two months ago, but now here they are. Marius takes a step forward, cupping their cheek reverently. “This was probably a bad time for this. You said you’ve been stressed.”

“It’s okay, love. We can both have issues at the same time.” They kiss his thumb, peppering kisses down in a line until they plant one to his wrist. “We can figure things out. Together.”

“Together,” Marius echoes, staring at them, tracking the movement. Then he surges forward, closing the distance between them and kissing them so softly they whimper. It quickly deepens, though, him pulling them close and weaving his fingers through their hair. Lyf takes a few steps forward, urging him back until he’s falling against the couch.

“Just like old times, hm?” They steal a kiss and start kissing his neck, the sweet, soft noises he makes music to their ears. It’s shaping up to be a gentle night, which, sure, not exactly what they were hoping for, but it’s good, too. “Speaking of old times--I would very much like to ride your dick. That alright with you?”

“Oh--um--” He looks a bit dazed, but they go to palm his dick while waiting for a response and--

“You’re not--hm.” They sit beside him. “Guess that’s a no, then.”

Marius looks away from them, so they can’t see his reaction. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. It’s been an emotional night.” They don’t understand where those emotions are coming from, really, but… “I’m sorry for pressuring you.” They lean against him, and their horniness is quickly making way for care and concern.

“It’s okay.” He leans back against them. “I’ll go back to prison in the morning, but could I stay here tonight? I just.” He pauses, and they give him a minute to think, even though the answer is, yes, of course, always. “I just want to hold you.”

“Of course.” They open their arms and he falls right into them, burying his face in their chest. Faintly, they can feel him shaking, but they can’t hear him crying and they feel like it might be rude to ask. “...I love you, Marius.”

“I love you so much, Lyf.” He turns his face so he’s resting his cheek on them, and his eyes are red and puffy. “More than I realized I was still capable of.”

They don’t know quite how to respond to that, so they just kiss him on the forehead. It’s the only thing they can think to do. “Would you like to go to bed early?”

They expect some comment about how they worked until ten so this is hardly early, but instead he just nods weakly against their chest, following them up the stairs.

They don’t sleep well. The enormity of Marius’s love doesn’t bother them, but the size of his fear is another thing entirely. More than that, they fear whatever it was that put that fear there. But, they can’t do anything about that tonight. It’s all they can do to hold him close and, at some point, fall asleep in his arms. He’s gone by the morning.

  * • •



The Ratatosk Express has arrived. 

Marius had an awful feeling even before Lyf walked into his cell reeking of eldritch energy. If you live long enough you can recognize most things, and, well. Marius has a terrible feeling he knows what it is that’s been keeping Lyfrassir busy. So, he decides it’s time for a jail break. He leaves an hour before he can imagine Lyf even _thinking_ about getting out of their office, and he hopes the extra time will allow him to gather his thoughts. Of course, because he’s himself, he only succeeds in stressing himself out, and he’s on the couch having the beginnings of an anxiety attack when Lyf opens their door. They immediately drop their shit, slamming the door closed behind them, and begin tearing off their clothes. 

“Rough day at work?” Marius tries for a casual tone. 

“You’d better be naked,” they say in a huff, striding over towards him. He is most definitely Not Naked, and if he wants to get out what he needs to say, he knows he needs to stay that way. 

“I’m—I’m not, actually—can we sit down?” He’s nervous, but they give a tense laugh, so maybe they are too?

“Rather sit on your dick, but sure.” 

“I’d really rather, um, talk, for a minute? If that’s okay with you? I have something I need to ask.”

They stare at him like a deer in headlights, and he sighs, endeared and frustrated. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve been saying, have you.” It’s not a question, so he just sighs and continues. “I need to ask you something.”

“You’re not proposing already, are you? I’ll have to tell my mums.” Of course, _now_ Lyf decides it’s time to rehearse their tight five. He can’t let them phase him.

“I want you to run away with me.” He looks them dead in the eyes, and the panic there is..immediate.

“You’re serious.” They stand up, walking to the wall and dragging a hand down their face. “Marius, this is—why would you ask me this?”

“I’ve wanted to for a while, honestly, I just—it occurred to me, we never know how much time we have, you know—“

“You’re immortal.”

“And I don’t want to lose a moment with you, Lyfrassir.” Marius crosses the room to join them, using every ounce of self control in him not to grab them, hold them, shake some sense into them. “Please. You hate this job, so forget it. If you hate my friends, we can go alone. Time is so precious and there’s so little of it I have with you, and I wasted years being an idiot, and I’m done. I’m not losing you. I love you and if you don’t love me forever I understand but right now you _do_ and you have _no idea_ how long it’s been since anyone has loved me without any hate.”

“Marius.” They cup his cheek and he leans into it hard, the affection giving him hope. “Do you think I’m going to leave you?”

He shakes his head quickly. Of course he doesn’t. It’s not their relationship that’s the problem.

“Why do you think you’re going to lose me?”

He turns his head, pressing kisses to their fingertips, trying to stall. “You’re...mortal, Lyf.”

“Yes, as are most people,” they can’t stop themself from snarking.

“Most people die.” They have died. They do die. Everywhere he goes, people die, at horribly rapid rates because they only go to places as fucked up as they are, and it hasn’t bothered him much before, but it suddenly is the worst thing in the universe.

“That’s true. You’ve been known to die yourself from time to time, if I recall.” They actually fucking wink at him. They’re missing the point completely.

“Most people don’t come _back._ ”

“Such is the human condition.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, reminding himself that he can’t just kidnap them. That would be wrong. Unless maybe it saves their life? “Please, Lyf, there’s not much time, you don’t understand--”

“No, honey, I think I understand just fine.” They take his mechanical hand in their own, lovingly running their thumb over the metal. “When was the last time you loved someone you could lose?” He looks away from them. He can remember a handful, but he didn’t think to try to save them, and here he is, trying not to relive his mistakes and still failing. “I think you’re having an anxious meltdown about the fact that existential dread suddenly affects you. Which is understandable.”

He huffs out slightly as the tears that have been burning at the corners of his eyes finally start to fall, looking at his beloved. “I have a terrible feeling everything is about to go wrong, Lyfrassir.”

“Not us. Never us, Marius. We both promised.” They press a kiss to his lips and he wants to kiss them back until the world ends in a few days or so. “The great thing about being mortal is I can make promises without eternity looming ahead of me in which to break them.” They chuckle. “So when I tell you I love you and I’m not leaving, know I can promise that. And with me, you can promise that, too.”

There’s...a lot to unpack there, later. Now, icy dread settles in the pit of his stomach. “When you say you’re not leaving. Do you mean you’re not leaving me? Or that you’re not leaving _with_ me?” 

“Both.”

His heart is already broken. They’re not gone yet, but he’s lost them. Maybe he should just stay here with them; maybe the undoing of reality will finally be enough to put him out of his misery. And, more dangerous, his joy. He takes a step forward, cupping their cheek reverently. “This was probably a bad time for this. You said you’ve been stressed.”

“It’s okay, love. We can both have issues at the same time.” They kiss his thumb, peppering kisses down in a line until they plant one to his wrist. “We can figure things out. Together.”

“Together,” Marius echoes, too busy drinking them in to do much else, tracking the movement and committing the trail to memory. He wants to remember what it felt like, to touch them. Then he surges forward, closing the distance between them and kissing them softly, afraid they might break, making them whimper. The kiss is perfect and not enough and it quickly deepens, a hand pulling them close, savoring the way they fit against him, and weaving his fingers through their hair. Lyf takes a few steps forward, urging him back until he’s falling against the couch, looking up at them in awe.

“Just like old times, hm?” They don’t notice when he doesn’t respond to that, too wrapped up in wondering what he could possibly say to persuade them without coming off like he’s making things up to manipulate them, and then they’re kissing his lips, and his neck, and he’s probably moaning but he’s not quite sure. “Speaking of old times--I would very much like to ride your dick. That alright with you?”

“Oh--um--” In theory? Sure. But he hasn’t had this little libido in a long time. Which is stupid, because they’re on top of him and kissing him and they press their palm against him and he’s soft.

“You’re not--hm.” They sit beside him. “Guess that’s a no, then.”

Marius looks away from them, not wanting to see their disappointment. It’s an emotion they’ve never worn around him before, and he doesn’t want to have a visual aid for his self-hatred in a few centuries when he figures out how to save Lyf after it’s far too late to do so. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. It’s been an emotional night. I’m sorry for pressuring you.” They lean against him, and he immediately leans back.

“It’s okay I’ll go back to prison in the morning, but could I stay here tonight? I just.” He pauses, trying to think of a nice way to say _I want to memorize the way you feel pressed against me because I don’t think I’ll ever feel it again_. “I just want to hold you.”

“Of course.” They open their arms and he falls right into them, burying his face in their chest. He’s crying, which is kind of embarrassing, but he’s also vaguely dissociating, so he doesn’t take too much norice. “...I love you, Marius.”

“I love you so much, Lyf.” He turns his face so he’s resting his cheek on them, and he focuses on a mole on their arm which he never noticed before. More than anything, he wants to catalogue their body. There are a lot of Lyf-related things he wants more than anything these days. “More than I realized I was still capable of.”

They kiss him on the forehead in response and say the second-best thing they’ve said all night. “Would you like to go to bed early?”

He just nods weakly against their chest, following them up the stairs. He doesn’t sleep. As far as he can tell, it takes Lyf a long time to nod off themself, and the entire time they’re awake he’s contemplating how to explain the situation to them, or at least a good way of putting his feelings into words more fully, but they’re asleep before he can manage. So he focuses on what he has: tonight, with Lyf, their perfect form curled into his body as he holds them and silently weeps. True to his word, he’s gone by the morning.

He hates goodbyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion.

Shortly after Lyf comes into their cell with the black box and Marius can no longer deny the reality of the situation to Ivy and Raphaella, the women hatch an escape plan. It does not involve Inspector Lyfrassir Edda in any capacity, and so Marius strongly protests. With improvised weapons. 

In the end, Marius von Raum leaves the Yggdrasil System in three garbage bags.

When he comes to on the Aurora, the various chunks of himself having reattached themselves, he is alone in his medbay. He just barely stops himself from screaming, dashing to the control room to find Brian, telling him to turn around, please, they have to go back, but Brian just tells him in a voice so gentle Marius knows he’s on MJE that he was dead for months, and he starts to say something else but he doesn’t get the chance because Marius has grabbed the back of his head and thrust it down on a piece of machinery with such force that it impales him. Nastya isn’t here to give him shit for it anymore, and he wouldn’t care anyway. He steals the gun strapped to Brian’s hip and stalks through the Aurora, shooting people he comes across until he’s down to a single bullet, and then he tucks it into his trousers as he enters the science bay, where Raphaella and Ivy are flirting. He doesn’t care. He starts with Ivy, ripping her to pieces with his bare hands, and she gives Raphaella a look that pisses him off even more as neither of them do a thing to stop him, and when he moves on to Raphaella she just looks at him with pity so he starts with her eyes. Once he’s alone he takes the gun out and raises it to his chin, adding his blood to the pool on the floor. 

He wakes alone, again, in the medbay, but he’s handcuffed to the bed this time. 

The next few months pass in a bit of a blur of alcohol and violence and emptiness. Once, Ivy approaches him sulking, looking out the viewport, and says, in her best  _ I’m-attempting-comfort _ voice, “You know, there’s a 62% chance they escaped the system unscathed.”

Marius rips her throat out. She doesn’t bother him about it again. 

He actually fucks off for the better part of a decade, ejecting himself from the airlock above some war-torn hellhole to see just how foolproof Carmilla’s curse is and, when it proves to be fairly foolproof indeed, he takes a page from Ashes’ book and burns the whole fucker to the core with him still on it. The others are glad to have him gone, he’s sure. They hate it when he gets emotional like this. 

It’s pathetic, he knows, to be so utterly wrecked by the loss of someone who, in the span of an eternity, he only barely met. They only had a few months together, and they were barely together even then, and even if you took into account the years he spent pining prior to that, they still had nothing. 

They had everything. 

Marius has nothing. 

He doesn’t even know how long he’s been floating in space, dying and coming back and dying again, but he knows he never stays dead long enough. In the moments he’s alive, he thinks about promises and eternity and how much time he has left to make and break more of them. 

After time untold, he wakes up in a sparse metal airlock, and for a dreadful moment he thinks he’s back on the Aurora. He stands, his limbs shaky, and uses the wall to prop himself up as he fumbles for the airlock release he knows has to be in here somewhere. 

Then the door is open, and he realizes he’s finally fucking proper lost his mind. The figure that stands there is—it looks like—

He has his pistol still, so he presses the muzzle to the roof of his mouth and promptly shoots himself in the head. 

When he wakes up, he is, surprisingly, not back in the cold vacuum of space, but laying on a cot on the floor, covered with a horribly-knit blanket. The gentle hum of machinery surrounds him, and when he looks up, he realizes he’s in a cockpit, and sitting in the pilot’s seat is—

He scrambles for his gun again, but after a moment he sees it on the control panel beside an individual who is the spitting image of Lyfrassir Edda. He just stares for god-knows-how-long, his treacherous heart racing towards hope like the damned fool it’s always been. The fool  _ he’s _ always been. The figure doesn’t look at him, but it does speak, and it sounds exactly like them. 

“Where’s your ship, von Raum.”

He shakes his head, not understanding. “What are you—”

“Your ship. The one you talked about. The one you left on.” L—the figure’s gaze is fixed on the stars, whose cold light looks only colder reflected in their eyes. “I’m going to return you to it. I wouldn’t leave you to die.” They don’t place inflection on any word in particular, but the implication still slices through him like Raphaella’s jagged hacksaw. Appropriate, he supposes, that the death hallucination he has as the cold of space finally busts his Mechanism is just his dead love ripping his heart out. 

“You can’t be real.”

“Why? Because you abandoned me in a system you knew was about to be consumed by the unbecoming of all things, the squamous things between realities?” Their voice is completely devoid of emotion, and it’s worse than if they were yelling at him. Or strangling him to death. Violent, loud, anger, at least, Marius knows what to do with. Loud anger has love under it somewhere. This is just—hate. No hate with their love, he supposes. At least one of them isn’t a liar. “Nice touch, by the way, killing yourself to avoid looking at me. Really classy. I had no idea you hated me so much. Assumed you just didn’t love me as much as you said.”

Marius has so, so many things he wants to say in response to that, so many refutations and arguments that they all get tangled up in his head and he hesitates too long, and they take a deep breath, let it out slowly. 

“Where is your ship.”

“I don’t know.” He’s screaming at himself, pleading with himself to say something, anything to disagree with the things they just said, but he doesn’t feel all there. Lyfrassir is—they’re here, somehow, but it’s been at least a decade by now and they don’t look a day older, and he just wants to take them into his arms but he’s paralyzed. “I left.”

They snort humorlessly. “You seem to have a habit of that.”

“I don’t,” he manages. His voice is weak. “I didn’t.”

Finally, finally, they turn to look at him, and that  _ can’t _ be Lyfrassir, because their eyes were brown and now the irises have gone almost clear except where the light of the stars is hitting them, and there they go rainbow, and they’re just. Staring at him. Their skepticism couldn’t be plainer. 

“I didn’t,” he repeats. “I wouldn’t have.”

“Except that you did.” Their face is guarded, and maybe there’s some love mixed in with the hate after all this time after all, because they cross their arms as if he won’t notice them protecting themself. As if he doesn’t psychoanalyze people for fun.

“I didn’t,” he insists. “I wanted to take you with me.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I tried—”

“You didn’t explain why you were asking! I thought you were just.” They cover their face, and their next inhale is shaky. “You could have taken me anyway.”

“Against your will?”

They drop their hands, fixing him with a look of blatant disgust. “You’d rather I die than hate you?”

“I was going to come get you!”

“But you  _ didn’t _ .”

“They chopped me into fucking pieces and carried me out of the Yggdrasil System in garbage bags.” He spits the words like venom, but the poison isn’t directed at Lyf. He hopes they know that. “They didn’t even let me come back until months later.”

Lyf looks...taken aback, by that. “You didn’t...you didn’t leave willingly.”

“Of course not.”

There’s a lull as they consider that. “But you knew about the train all that time. And you never said anything.”

“We knew something fucky was going to happen, but we didn’t know the shape of it, and we didn’t know when it would happen. We just came to get the story.”

Their nose wrinkles at him. Which, fair. “You could have saved everyone.”

“As if they would’ve listened. And I told you my morals were fucked. You’ve seen the crimes I’ve committed just in your system. You just ignored that because you—” His voice catches, and he looks at the blanket, worrying it with his fingers, wondering if Lyf made it themself. Wondering why they would give it to him. “I notice  _ you’re _ alone, too. Did you share your findings with your compatriots?”

The words visibly sting, and he kind of meant for them to, but he feels bad anyway. “In the time it would have taken to get anyone to listen it would have been too late, and even if they listened, I would have been stuck in the—” They pause. Sigh. “I suppose we’re both monsters.”

“Not you,” he says, shaking his head even though they aren’t looking at him. “You had an impossible choice. That doesn’t make you a monster.”

They just look back out the viewport, rainbow eyes shifting with every slight movement. “Why were you floating through space, von Raum?”

“I,” he stops himself. “I don’t think you want the answer to that.”

“You owe me this.”

That’s. Fair, he supposes. “I‘ve been trying to die for the last decade.”

Their gaze snaps back to him, completely clear with their hair blocking the light. “You what?”

“You think you’re the only one with hating-Marius privileges?” he tries to joke, the humor quickly dropping from his voice. “I never wanted to be like this, you know.”

They look at him seriously. “No, I don’t know. We never really...talked, about things that weren’t.” Their tongue flits out to moisten their lips, and Marius suddenly remembers what it felt like to kiss them. “The moment. We didn’t even talk about the future, except for, um.”

“Yeah.” Marius realizes he’s on the brink of undoing the stitching in the blanket, so he drops it. “I—I’ve thought about you, about seeing you again so much, but now I just. I don’t even know what to say.” He swallows heavily. “I’m sure you hate me.”

They’re silent for a moment. “There’s still some love with the hate. I tried to get rid of it, but—I couldn’t.”

His heart swells with hope again, but this time he lets it. “My love for you has changed its hue a bit, but it’s as vibrant as it’s ever been.”

Their brow furrows at that, and they turn their face slightly so that rainbows spread through their tear-filled eyes. “I so badly want everything to just be okay again. I’ve spent so long running, Marius. So much has happened. I’m—I’ve been so alone.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. “I could pretend to be someone else, if you’d like. We could pretend. We could just start over, do things right this time.”

“Doing things right sounds nice, but I want to do that with you.” They get out of their chair, sitting on the cot beside them. A piece of hair falls in their face, and he just wants to brush it out of the way. He’s missed them so much. If he’s dreaming, he never wants to wake up. “Not with Byron or whatever. I don’t need an excuse to be with you this time.”

He laughs at that, and they look at him with puzzlement and offense. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean that to be funny, it’s just that Byron is my real name. I know I gave it as a pseudonym, but—my name is Byron, I just, when I became a Baron I didn’t want to be Baron Byron, it was too—sorry, I’m getting off topic.” But they’re laughing, too. 

“What, were you that desperate to hear me moan your name?” Oh, they’re flirting now. This is almost certainly good. 

“That—I mean, yeah, that is literally what my logic was. But, um.” Fuck it, he brushes the hair out of their face, and they catch his hand in theirs, press it to their cheek. “The rest of that sounds good. If that’s—if I’m—if you really want to give this another shot.”

In response, they kiss him. 

Marius has imagined kissing them again in more ways than there are numbers. He’s thought about running to them, sweeping them off their feet, kissing them with such blinding passion that they’d forget everything that has happened. He’s thought about kissing them softly, sweetly, as they sighed into his mouth, him holding them close as they cried, them holding him as he cried. He’s thought about kissing them as if nothing has changed, about them locking eyes from across the room and making their way toward each other, flirting as if the most complicated part of their relationship was the power dynamic that bothered Lyf so much. 

This kiss is nothing like he’d imagined. Because Lyfrassir is kissing him just as much as he’s kissing them, and they don’t have to be persuaded into it, and they taste like dehydrated ration bars and feel like forgiveness. 

“Not a day has passed that I haven’t missed you,” he whispers against their lips when they part, leaning their foreheads together. 

“Nothing I could do was enough to get you out of my mind.” They kiss him again, and then they’re pulling back, lifting his shirt over his head, unbuttoning their own. Their hands are shaking, so Marius puts his hands over theirs, does it himself. “I was so angry at you, I would replay everything you ever said or did to me over and over in my mind, and the memories just burned and I thought I was going insane because even after you left I couldn’t pick up any insincerity.” Their hands grip his on the last button, and he looks up at their tear-tracked face. “I hated that I couldn’t hate you properly.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulls their hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to every knuckle, every inch. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Kiss me,” they say, shrugging off their shirt. “Please.”

“Is this really what you want?” 

“More than almost anything.”

“Almost?”

Impatient, Marius supposes, they kiss him themself. It’s sweet and surprisingly chaste. “More than anything, I wish we’d never parted.”

Bold words from someone whose star system was worse than destroyed, but Marius wants to believe them, so he does. He takes them in his arms, and they feel different but the same, new scars catching on his hands as he tries to retrace his steps. He wishes they didn’t exist, or that he’d been there to know the stories, but he mainly wishes they were kissing right now and so he leans forward and catches their lips with his own, and it’s deeper this time. He worries their lower lip between his teeth gently and they gasp, so he licks into their mouth and they reciprocate hungrily, shifting to be more properly on his lap. The weight alone is enough to make his cock twitch with interest, but when they grind down on him he can’t stop himself from breaking away with a loud moan. 

“I missed that sound,” they murmur against his ear before leaving a string of hickies down his neck. 

“I’m just going to be honest with you, I haven’t fucked anyone in a decade and have jerked it maybe a dozen times tops in that time so if you keep that up there’s a good chance this will go the way of our first hookup.”

They laugh, grinding down again, harder. “I enjoyed our first hookup.”

“Fuck, I did too, obviously, I’d just—what do you want, Lyfrassir?”

“I’d like to fuck you.”

“Great, glad to hear it, I would love some more specificity though.” He grips their hips to still their movements for a moment. “I want to do exactly what you want from me, no more, no less.”

They give him a fond look. “You know, I think people have the wrong idea about you. You’re so good, Marius.” He whimpers at that. 

“Just for you, love.”

They stand up suddenly and his heart falls violently, but then they start undoing their trousers and he relaxes. “Please, clothes off. Please. I’m riding you and I want to feel every inch of skin I can.”

What’s he supposed to do? Not strip? He removes his remaining clothes as quickly as he can, and then it’s just his prick straining up towards Lyf as they hover over him, and he realizes at the last minute that they’re about to just sink down on him. 

“Wait,” he says, gripping their hips just to be safe. Their face shifts to near-panic, so he continues before they can respond. “Let me eat you out first. And finger you. I don’t want this to hurt.”

“I’ve taken your dick before, Marius, I just want—“

“Please.” He almost asks if it’s been a while or something for them to be so foolish about this, but then thinks better of it. He doesn’t want to know. “The first time we did prep and it was still uncomfortable to start. Please, for me.”

They stroke his hair gently, a difficult-to-read expression on their face. “Well, I’m hardly going to turn you down if you’re begging to suck my dick.”

“Thank you,” he says, not acknowledging the half-joke. Instead, he pulls them in towards his face, breathing deep as he presses a kiss to their bush, desperately memorizing every experience with them now that he knows how treacherous and fickle memory can be. He doesn’t fuck around too much, for once, dragging his tongue up between their folds, feather-light, and they shudder, gripping his head and shoulder as they double over. The memory this triggers is beautiful and no longer bittersweet so he smiles against them, licking softly at their dick and pressing fingers gently at their entrance. 

“Marius…” Their voice is floaty and choked with emotion. 

He hums against them in response, pressing a finger in to find them delightfully wet, and stroking against their walls as he continues to lick at them, sucking their dick into his mouth and circling his tongue around it as he sucks. 

“Please, fa—ah!—faster, your fingers—add more, please, I want to fuck you properly—”

This feels like pretty proper fucking to Marius, but he adds another finger anyway, quickly followed by another when they buck their hips against his face. 

“Please, Marius, I don’t want to come like this.”

“I could always give you two,” he says, but he removes his lips and does just a bit more stretching with his fingers. 

“No, when we’re done I’m falling asleep in your arms because I can’t wake up in them until I’ve fallen asleep.” He feels like there’s something deeper to that, but then they’re sinking down on him and it’s all he can do not to come then and there or break down crying or both. He settles on whimpering and clinging to them with his whole upper body. Luckily, they cling right back, sitting on his dick and shaking for a moment as they hold each other, basking in the mind-numbing pleasure of having their skin pressed together again. 

“Slowly, please,” he manages before they start moving. They turn their head slightly and kiss his neck in response, raising themself off almost all the way from his cock before lowering themself at the speed of trickling honey, the feeling it produces far sweeter. “Lyfrassir…”

“Yeah?” They’re panting a bit from the exertion, but they pull back to look him in the eyes, and they’re going to have to talk eventually about the rainbows but right now that doesn’t even matter. 

“I love you.” It feels like a confession even though they’ve said it before and they were literally just talking about it. Thankfully, they smile, raising up again and dragging pleasure out of him in noises he doesn’t have words for. 

“I love you too, Marius. Byron?”

“Both.” He laughs, then gasps as they sink down again. “I’m sure you’re happy to have another version of my name to give a deeply sexual connotation to.”

“Oh yeah, looking forward to it.” They bite their lip, looking him in the eyes, and he wants to kiss them but mostly he wants to watch them come undone, so he slips his normal hand between them and begins working their dick with the slick that’s pooling on his groin anyway. The effect is immediate. 

“Oh—oh, fuck, Marius, I’m not going to last long like this.”

“That makes two of us.” Marius’s own hips are bucking up to meet theirs at their point, although he forces the movement to be more subdued than it wants to be. 

“I do love you. I really do.”

Now, finally, he can’t hold back the tears anymore. “It’s so good to hear that, Lyf. I’ve loved you this whole time.” He kisses them quickly, as they’re both breathing too heavily for more than that. “I don’t deserve this.”

“We deserve this, Marius, I—you, oh, fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Fuck, me too—”

Pleasure crests over him, cleansing him as much as the tears that are falling onto his chest now (he can’t tell who they came from), and it’s all he can do to keep his hand working between them, coaxing a broken cry out of Lyf’s mouth, his own name, and that sound is better than the euphoria that overwhelms him completely. 

He doesn’t really leave himself, this time. The pleasure just goes from all-consuming to a different kind of all-consuming as they slump against him, content and utterly spent. They lock eyes and there is so, so much he wants to say, but most of those things are just some version of “I love you” and so that’s what he says. 

“I love you,” they return, pulling off of his dick only to lie back down on top of him on the cot. He manages to gather the presence of mind to grab the knit blanket and wrap it around the two of them as they quickly slip into unconsciousness. He follows not long after them, refusing to listen to the voices in his head that doubt the real weight in his arms and the aching joy in his heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to the horny bastards in the nsfw stowaway server for egging me on in writing this lol. love you all
> 
> thank you for reading! if you liked this, please consider contributing to my gay rights fund by leaving kudos and/or a comment. take care of yourself <3


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